PORTALS PORTABLE EDITION 2021

PORTALS Portable Edition 2021

Cover Image, "Cape Fear" by Briana Wilson

Portals is More Than a Magazine.

Portals is an annual publication created by students, faculty, and staff at Cape Fear Community College. Judges from across the campus select art and literary submissions for publication based on creative merit. The magazine has been a vital part of the College’s culture since 2004. Each spring the CFCC English Department presents the latest issue of Portals and hosts a celebration in honor of CFCC artists, writers, and editors.

As a student at CFCC, you can be involved: Work as a student editor and learn the art and craft of publishing a literary journal Submit original works of creative nonfiction, fiction, and poetry to be considered for publication Submit works of art to be considered for publication Be featured on cfcc.edu and CFCC's social media

Visit cfcc.edu/portals to access the archived Portals magazines!

(Coming soon!)

Portals Archive

ENG 125 CREATIVE WRITING I

ENG 126 CREATIVE WRITING II

This course is designed as a workshop approach for

This course is designed to provide students with

advancing imaginative and literary skills. Emphasis is

the opportunity to practice the art of creative

placed on the discussion of style, techniques, and

writing. Emphasis is placed on writing, fiction,

challenges for first publications.

poetry, and sketches.

I am a proud CFCC graduate. The writing classes that I did were always so appreciated as I am an artist in the school of business.

They were a welcome break to systems, procedures, and numbers.

-CFCC Alumna, Karen Sboto

CFCC Creative Writing Courses

ENG 128 POETRY

ENG 127 FICTION WRITING

ENG 129 NON-FICTION

This course is designed to offer

This course is designed to offer

This course is designed to offer

students instruction in the art

students instruction in the art of

students instruction in the art of

of writing poetry, including

writing fiction, including short

writing creative nonfiction, including

fixed, experimental, open, and

story, flash fiction, drama, novel

the sub-genres of: memoir, the

digital forms. Emphasis is

excerpts, digital storytelling, and

critical essay, personal essay, literary

placed on exploring techniques

other forms of fiction. Emphasis

journalism, digital content writing,

and forms in poetry, engaging

in placed on exploring

and other nonfiction forms. Emphasis

in writing exercises and

techniques and forms in fiction,

is placed on exploring techniques

composing original poems,

engaging in writing exercises,

and forms in creative nonfiction,

critically examining

composing original works,

composing original essays, critically

contemporary poetry and the

critically examining

examining contemporary nonfiction

work of peers, and preparing

contemporary short fiction and

and the work of peers, and preparing

for careers in publishing and

the work of peers, and preparing

for careers in publishing and writing-

writing-intensive fields.

for careers in publishing and

intensive fields.

writing-intensive fields.

CFCC Creative Writing Courses

Meet the Senior Editor, Rhonda Franklin The Portals student editors volunteer from a range of campus programs. The student staff has the opportunity to learn about each phase of producing a literary and arts magazine: initial funding and promotion; layout and editing; celebrating a new issue and its talented contributors. Producing the magazine takes time, effort, support, and collaboration. The students benefit professionally and creatively from being part of the experience. As for the student editors' contributions, CFCC and Portals benefit from their fresh perspectives and varied skills, especially in new genres and technology!

In addition, providing a quality literary and arts magazine is still an uncommon feat for a community college. CFCC is, therefore, part of a unique group of colleges

If you have questions, feel free to contact me: Rhonda Franklin Portals Senior Editor 910-362-7465 rfranklin@cfcc.edu

that seeks to enhance the lives of our students and colleagues through participation in the magazine and to "foster the positive public image of the college and effectively promote services and programs to the community."

Portals will continue to be an increasingly integral part of our mission as we grow the creative writing and fine arts programs.

Student Spotlight, Editor I became a student editor because I wanted to learn about the process behind putting the magazine together.

I am learning how organized I can be and how to create marketing designs to promote the magazine.

-Luis Mendoza

Ode to the Koi Fish

By Kelsie Bennett Transom Award—Best Overall who lived in the pond

my sister was newborn

of my childhood home.

when a bird of prey dove talon-first

the first time my mother

past her scarecrow & knotted gate

spent much more money

and scooped up a fish as a lazy meal.

than she thought she deserved

my mother’s pond slimmed down

in order for my father

to the few she could salvage.

to have a threshold to carry

when one fish remained:

her over as a married woman.

standing halfway between cradle & pond,

the pond was inherited

my mother decided

with the purchase:

in order to raise children the right way,

a bed frame, a microwave,

some things must die.

& six orange-muddled fish.

she closed the gate & came back inside.

free of charge, a moss-grown mirror lined with dimpled stones. kois as full & round as soup cans. fuller once my mother was persuaded to have children & began to feed them in maternal instinct.

Student Spotlight, Writer I saw posters around CFCC advertising Portals and thought submitting my work was a great opportunity! It feels incredible to be recognized. Being published was the first time I really felt connected to CFCC. I felt seen and supported, and I met lots of people at the gala who shared my passion.

-Kelsie Bennett

Student Spotlight, Editor CFCC should be proud of its writers, artists, and photographers--and their work!

I plan to submit several pieces of writing and art for the next edition of Portals.

-Marva Moss

Where We Grow

By Amber Best Poetry Award I grew at sea level,

like the 608 highway

so does she.

to the sea.

Where shrimp boats

I choke on heavy smoke

meet the dawn,

on the way to school

we fly free like gulls

she breathes

over Molasses Creek.

sand and ocean

Cypress towering

off saw grass blades.

at sunrise,

In the dog days

dogs are barking,

we eat butter corn

we sip cherry kool-aid

With bar-b-que chicken

in the early morning heat.

You damn skippy

There’s salt water

When she asks

in our blood

Is this the happiest

pulsing through veins

I’ve ever been.

Student Spotlight, Writer Until someone else reads your work, it is just a little piece of your heart that you have launched. A soft butterfly hoping to land. This work was very personal, and as I have had writer's block since the death of my mother it was very liberating to write it.

-Karen Sboto

Winter is Cold

By Karen Sboto Nonfiction Award That time when there were three of us left felt like a last

We are eating by the window, and I remember walking home in

supper. Soon we would be two, and Richard and I would be

my youth and seeing people engaged in normal scenes,

orphans. Is that the right word I wonder, when you are no

cooking, eating, or watching tv. I would be steaming home,

longer of the age of Harry Potter or Anne of Green Gables, the

cold, dressed like an astronaut, secretly jealous of them. My

age when orphan hood is written like a jaunty adventure. My

cozy apartment and singularity awaited me, like a judgment.

father’s death twelve years ago had splintered us. It took our

Winter was a hard time to be single.

passion, and some of our ability to be around each other. Now mom’s terminal diagnosis loomed like a boat that was soon

Now, it seems like winter is also a very hard time to become

docking, and our imminent departure in the voyage that is

motherless. Maybe it would be easier in summer, when you can

dying, inevitable.

get outside for a break, but then again, winter seems to suit the mood. It seems fitting to be sad at this time. Staying in bed is

It was winter, the Winnipeg type, where the light shines clearly

so much easier now, too. My mother and I take to lying in bed

in the short day, and the nights are never quite dark. We are

and doing cross words, at times we read books from cover to

sitting around the table that holds within its wooden surface

cover in only one day. Before this time when there was still

our lives for the past forty years. It is round and expands to

treatment, I watched the World Series and knitted scarves while

accommodate everyone. It could be the metaphor for our

she drifted in and out of the chemo exhaustion.

family. There are times when there are many of us and others like tonight when there are only us three sharing a meal, tonight its boards lean, unneeded, against the wall of the closet.

Winter is Cold

By Karen Sboto, Continued

That supper though was the beginning of the end. It was one of the last times that she ate. We had a diagnosis, knew the future, and understood that it was going to be a long voyage.

We spoke about kids, and the rights of women to wear burkas, we spoke of putting fresh tomatoes into our fried rice. We are soft speakers and discuss things civilly. We know our future is going to be filled with the cancer topic so only talk of the past.

It is nice to be with my tribe even at this time.

There will be others heading home tonight, longing for arrival.

Maybe they will look at our peaceful scene and wish that it was them in our place. Their steps are crunchy in the snow, the steam of their breath frozen in their scarves. They are on their own journey, dreaming of destination.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson Fiction Award It’s around three-thirty in the afternoon and the Texas sun has not let up. The snakes and spiders take refuge in the available shade made by randomized Arlington construction. Had humans not pitched tents in this area over a couple hundred years ago, the wildlife would’ve been stuck in their ancestral ways. But in the same breath, had humans not settled here, then I wouldn’t be alive in this moment. With that said, the sun’s rays make me wish otherwise or at the very least, grateful that we’ve evolved to invent A/C. After being on standby all morning, I and my partner, Juano, decide to leave our truck and finally

The tables are the simplest kind you can find outside of some folding tables or planks of wood. The chairs are withered and exhausted with overuse. Numerous fans surround the dining room adorned with dust veils, showing the age of the place or the negligence of cleanliness.

It is a space only meant for the working class, nothing more, nothing less. Where else can one get the best food in Arlington? I order five carne asada tacos and Juano gets a bowl of caldo de pescado con tortillas. We sit at one of the tables and begin talking, waiting for our food, babysitting our cups of water.

get some food. Texas Health allows its EMS operators two half-hour breaks during our twelve hour shifts. Just enough time to park our truck in a small parking lot and race the clock to finish our meal. Some days, we can actually eat something nutritious.

We park our truck at Taqueria La Nueva Mexicana off of East Division Street just east of the Great Southwest Parkway. We brave the intense heat to reach the pleasure of cold, sweet horchata and warm tortillas inside. The outside of the restaurant is bleached bone white; the inside is barren like the brittle bushes lining the parking lot. Entering the restaurant, it smells of my grandma’s kitchen back in Tampico.

“This heat! My God this heat! It’s unbearable at times,” Juano proclaims. “Ah, don’t complain so much, Juano. We’re in Texas, what else could you expect?” I say.

“I know that but it’s a hundred and eight degrees out right now. You hear me? One. O. Eight,” Juano responds using his fingers to form the numbers. Juano isn’t used to this heat. He moved to Texas from Oregon two years ago for a new life. We all need that sometimes, right? The poor man underestimated the humidity that was waiting for him here though. The thing about living in Texas, and in the South for the most part, is that the heat is different out here.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson, Continued It’s not just the blazing temperatures people worry about. That gets old fast. It’s the humidity! When you’re in humid heat, you get both burning daggers from the sun, and a sauna from the earth. Steam surrounds our heads, filling the lungs with superheated moist air.

“It’s not about where you’re from, it’s just too hot. I expect you to be used to the heat, Ceniza. The sun has already burned you down into nothing! How could you possibly feel what somebody still whole feels?” he mocks.

That’s the real danger. I and the rest of the squads get a lot of calls around this season for heat stroke so we carry extra supplies of saline solution during the summer months. Of course, the heat gets to me too sometimes, but I can’t let Juano know that. I have to keep some sort of superiority.

“Look, Juano. I always tell you, you shouldn’t have come here if you can’t handle the heat. You lived in the Northwest all your life; you really thought you could hang with the guerreros down here?”

“Well, from me comes el fénix and I shall be reborn anew! I call that a pretty big trade off from being a ‘fleshy’ like yourself,” I reply back to Juano while slapping his rotund stomach. He begins to start a new argument with me until our orders get announced.

¡

“ Pedidos de Ceniza y Juano!” a woman’s voice calls out. I leave our table to get our food and leave my dear Juano upset about the stomach slap. After I return with our food, we eat, finish our water and make our way back to the truck to continue our patrol. While cruising, I

He hates it when I call him out on his complaining. It warms my soul when he shows his discomfort. After being on the force with him for the past two years, I can start to pick up on what he may say; as well as him to me. Right now I expect him to call me by my nickname. Or, rather, it is my true name, my name from our common homeland.

take in the artistry of North Central Texas. Dead armadillos show up on the side of the road every quarter-mile having lost the battle against a car’s tires. Cacti and Cedar Elms line the streets. The views of downtown Arlington are tinged a scorched, golden yellow from the still blazing sun with the Osage Plains to the north of the city.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson, Continued It’s as if looking at the skyline through a cathedral’s stained glass. Our service radio pops with static and we get periodic updates of the surrounding areas. None of the codes are for us to follow. The local

I don’t blame you for that. I’d stay here over Eugene any day but-” he says. Juano can tend to drag on if not careful so I tune him out sometimes. It can be a little annoying but it’s not intolerable.

news radio is on at the same time, adding more background noise with the city, religiously giving its spiel to locals. The big story now is the fear of stronger influences from the cartels of North Mexico. Dallas and Fort Worth have experienced an increase of activity over the past decade

He continues on, “I guess what I’m getting at is, what made you, Ceniza Alvarado, want to stay here? Did you ever want to live anywhere else?”

and Arlington is stuck in the middle. Most people figure it’s only a matter of time before we get our share. I believe that they’re already here making a strong influence. The media just hasn’t found a big

After thinking for a few seconds, I reply back, “I don’t… I don’t really know.” I was telling the truth.

enough story to sell yet. Some time passes before we start a random conversation again.

I had never really thought of that. I just went through life, living. I’ve never really had dreams or aspirations. I never had any talents. I went

“Hey Ceniza, I never really asked you this, but how come you’re here?”

Juano asks, breaking the silence.

through school kind-of absent minded and to myself, never failing but not competing for the principal's list either. Just another face in a sea of young brown kids. I spent my early twenties doing different trades,

“What are you talking about, man?” I reply back.

always earning enough to survive but never anything out of the ordinary. I’ve always lived in Arlington and I never questioned leaving.

“I mean, these days it’s unusual to see people still in their hometown. I mean, you are from Arlington, and you’ve got Irving, Fort Worth and Dallas all within maybe, what, 30 minutes of each other? So it’s not like you’ll be bored.

Even this EMS job sort of just came to me.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson, Continued I needed work, I asked an old friend for help, he lined me up with the hospital, I went to the interview, graduated from the courses and two years later, here I am. I’ve never, in my twenty-nine years of life, asked what led me to where I am now. No one ever asked. Not even my family.

“Roger, Ash Alvarado of Unit 22 confirmed for immediate extraction of a code 323 at Bush and Flintlock, en-route, lights up and moving. L.O.L warning confirmed, will request traffic override. Over.”

“Negative, traffic override not confirmed. Over.”

And after all that time, I’ve been asked a legitimate question that I can’t find a legitimate answer for. I now realize that I never gained the

Bastards! You give us this fucked situation this far out and traffic control

ability to know how to respond in the first place.

can’t make the stop lights work for us?!

“I guess I’ve never re-,” a voice breaks through our conversation that grabs both of our attention. It’s a dispatcher, who has come to remind us of our daily contribution to society.

Malice corrupts my patience. I wish I could yell it out, but professionalism is key, even now.

“Confirmed negative on traffic override. Eighteen minutes out. Over.” I respond back.

“Unit 22, we have a code 323. Intersection of Bush and Flintlock Avenue, roughly 9 miles to your Southwest. Status is red. Begin immediate extraction. Prepare for L.O.L. You will be Prime 1. I repeat, unit 22, code 323-”

“Confirmed, eighteen minutes out. Big red and blue arriving in twelve.

Over.”

“Confirmed. Over.” I respond back with the transponder ending its transmission.

“Shit! That’s bad!” I blurt out. I know that area. It’s in South Arlington, by Vandergriff Park. The traffic gets bad in that area around this time.

“Negative?

¿¡Jodidamente negativo!?” Juano shouts astoundingly.

Juano has already accepted the GPS request from HQ, turned on the sirens and is barreling through traffic. I grab the responder and reply back.

“Si, si, negativo,” I reluctantly confirm.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson, Continued “We’re hauling ass to Vandergriff, we’re all the way out east of Angus Wayne and we’re already expecting multiple dead?! How can we get to the others if they won’t override the lights for us!?” he shrieks with venom.

If I were to describe our current emotions, I’d say that Juano’s is that like a violent storm. A destructive tornado that obliterates all within its path, disappearing as quickly as it appears, or that of a raging river. Mine would be much like the ocean. On the surface, there is a calm and gentle ripple that evolves into slightly larger waves. But diving deeper,

“I know, I know” displeased agreement coming from me.

the currents get stronger, the light gradually fades, the pressure starts to squeeze harder, and a suffocating rage begins to encompass all. If we

“Ai, basura!” I can’t blame Juano. I’m right there with him. I’m just as pissed as he is. HQ has just asked the damn near impossible from us. A two-car collision, multiple persons involved, two casualties likely with

lose any lives because of HQ’s incompetence, I pray they choose the quick and violent twister as opposed to being crushed by the cold weight of the ominous and all-engulfing sea.

father time methodically working on the others and we will be the first EMS on scene with no other units in the area.

When we arrive at the scene, I can tell it will already be one of the worst jobs I’ve worked. Arlington PD and Fire have localized the scene of the

The rage that wells up in us is gradually coming to the surface. Juano is a much more expressive individual, he wears his heart on his sleeve. It takes very little to gauge his emotions. If others could see him now, they’d be surprised that the kind man could make such a face. Me, on the other hand, I tend to hide my emotions more. It’s difficult even for those close to me to tell what I’m feeling sometimes. But even though I don’t show it, I’m still human. And my rage at the current situation is no different than Juano’s.

crash and it is a vivid site. What was once a gray, four door sedan of some kind, or at least I suspect it was, looks as if a child has switched the ends of the car around in a sick display of creativity. Back becoming the front, insides turned out, leather seats exploded and flayed out beside the car as if being displayed like trophy game. The roof is nonexistent; a crumpled steering wheel is lodged into the backseat leaving smudges of oil and blood from the engine block and of the poor, unfortunate soul manning the helm.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson, Continued The remaining two tires are barely on their axles, deflated and devoid of all air. It seems this car got the worst of the impact. Lying twenty yards away is party number two. The second vehicle is a Toyota Raptor truck lying upside down in a sad heap. All of its windows are blown out,

The other two are both males, mid-twenties, both have grade-3 major contusions to the head and neck area, grade-2 and 3 concussions and each a broken tibia and fibula respectively. Also, unresponsive. None of them have any form of identification.”

the roof is caved-in and the back gate to the truck bed has flown off and is lying twelve feet away from the truck. Its front left tire and rim is obliterated and a slope beginning from the front of the truck ending to its left rear tire shows how it impacted the sedan and used it as a ramp to careen off into a barrel roll. Looking at the skid marks and where the collision presumably happened, it is obvious that the truck sped through the light and caused the crash. As Juano pulls into the scene, I open the back doors and jump out, gear in-tow, not wasting anytime as I ask the

As they are filling me in, I am simultaneously working on preparing the older gentleman for immediate transport. While preparing and running through procedure, Juano brings out the gurney and we load the man into the back of the truck. Before we leave, Juano tells the other responders that two more trucks are four minutes out before hopping into the front of the truck, with me in the back trying to stabilize the man, getting him ready to be received by the nearest hospital.

other first responders what the status is.

Speeding down Cooper Street, Juano rushes us to Arlington Memorial “What’s the situation?” I swiftly ask.

which is fourteen minutes away. I hear him in the front telling the hospital what to prepare for and the kind of patient we are bringing. I’ve

One of the responders escorts me to a line-up of bodies in between the vehicles while briefing me, “We’ve got two casualties, three in critical.

The one in the middle is priority. Male, late thirties to early forties, grade-4 lacerations to the head, neck and chest area, low blood pressure, major bruising on lower lumbar area, supposed collapsed lung, a broken left femur and unresponsive.

gotta say, this guy is a bad case. I’m surprised the old man didn’t croak on scene. But now that he’s with us, it is our job to get him to the ER as fast as possible. As for my task, it is my responsibility to see that he is as stabilized as possible. I’ve had enough times where I’ve seen a life slip away in this truck and I don’t feel like adding to that list today.

Come Quick Danger

By Darius Brunson, Continued As I go through the motions, something is bothering me. The

I definitely have a high member of the Los Zetas in my truck right now,

responders said they had no identification and that’s not uncommon.

he’s bleeding out and we are less than two miles from the hospital! I

We are in Texas, so illegal aliens are everywhere. But it’s something I

feel my vision turn inside-out.

heard. Earlier, as I was tending to the man’s wounds I briefly heard somebody speak. It was a drawn breath that seemed to come from

“Cálmese, Ash, cálmese.” I calm myself.

the direction of the injured men. Though they were unresponsive, I swear one of them muttered “Jefe”. I tried my best to focus on the

Now that I know who I’m dealing with, it makes this even more

man. I continue looking over his body for signs of injury but I stop when

impossible. I can’t fuck this up, I think to myself, I just can’t! It’s not just

I reach his stomach. After removing his shirt to view his torso, I am

this man’s life at stake anymore. If anything happens to him, I’m

greeted with a peculiar symbol. A tattoo of a shield with three

fucked! He’s barely alive, blood pressure is plummeting, bleeding out

sections. On the bottom is a picture of Mexico. In the top left is a

everywhere and his pupils are dilating. There’s no way I can keep him

picture of Tamaulipas, one of the coastal states of Mexico. And in the

stabilized long enough. There’s no way I ca-. And just like that,

top right is the letter ‘Z’. I’ve seen this symbol before. It’s a part of any

whether it be a flash of brilliance or an invitation from the devil, I make

Arlingtonian’s memory at this point. It’s a cartel insignia. And not just

a sudden realization. Faced with such an impossible situation, nine

any cartel. The Los Zetas! The second-most dangerous cartel in all of

times out of ten the patient would already be dead. If it’s by natural

Mexico right now! It makes sense now. They must have been speeding

causes, and he doesn’t make it, then wouldn’t this be the best for the

to do something and then they crashed. They don’t have identification

community? As my synapses overload, I look at the support machines I

because they’re not just aliens, but they’re cartel. This situation is the

have him hooked up to.

worst possible outcome for them. They can’t afford to get identified for anything or else they’d get exposed. Then there’s this guy! Oficíals and soldados dream of his status.

I pray to my Lord, “Señor por favor ayúdame.”

Student Spotlight, Editor As a student editor, I have learned that I have a love for editing. This experience has further established my goals for my career. I plan on attending a fashion/design-based university for fashion management and journalism.

-Rebecca Rivette

In high school I participated as student editor for the literary magazine, so when I came to CFCC and saw that we have a literary magazine here, I knew I wanted to join. I have learned about the value CFCC assigns to the arts.

-Natalie Harrell

Manhattan

By Haley Heath Maybe it was the lights,

I had two arms to hold you,

or the cars,

and two lips to kiss you,

or the chaos,

and two eyes to know you,

a carousel of existence,

and I was grateful,

and we were a statue of love

and you were thankful.

standing silent and still by the Hudson.

And in between you and me

Maybe it was the sky,

there was a silence.

or the moon,

She picked us up

or the people,

and there we were,

those silhouettes of survival,

over the city, unheard,

and we were a portrait of perfection

existing as one.

hanging silent and still in the center.

Complementary Colors

By Samantha Slezak On Friday, Oct 18, I went to watch the sunrise. It was a

We got close to the water but stayed just far enough away as the

quiet morning. The first chilly one of fall dropping into the lower

water began to slowly creep up towards the shore. There were no

40s, and dew covered everything that touched the air. The sky

waves, just a trickling sea that had the smallest increments of

was a dark navy blue that was barely lit up by the moon and the

energy surging through it. Sarra laid down the blanket and we

street light had blinded me as I first walked out the door. My

popped a squat. Through our time sitting there, we watched the

eyes soon adjusted to both the cold air sudden change from light

sun slowly begin to rise. It took a while, but in that time I began

to dark as we started to drive down the road. As we made our

to realize how the Lord is revealing himself to me through art.

way through the town, being stopped by only a few red lights, the sky began to change from navy to a royal grey color. As we

Last semester I took a design class. We learned about

crossed the Wrightsville Beach Bridge, the water began to run

many basic rules and principles of art. It seemed silly and it felt

while only becoming a little splashed as it hit the side of the

like 6th grade the things I was learning, but now as I watch the

dock. It was a still morning in Wilmington. We made our way

sunrise, I see that it was the Lord foreshadowing to me his beauty and

down the road and Sarra chose to park in an access that was

intentionality behind little things like colors and the sunrise. We spent a

different from our normal sunrise spot. It was perfect. As I

few weeks on the color wheel and the different types of combinations,

opened the door, I hit it on the palm tree that we were parked

analogous, monochromatic, neutrals, and complementary. The way

way too close to, inching my way out of the seat and squeezing

certain colors lay next to one another could determine the overall

through the little window I had. I grabbed my camera, through

message of a design or piece of art. My favorite to learn about was

every sweater I had, and began to make my way down the path

complementary. These were colors that lay opposite to one another on

to the water. Sarra was right behind me in her hat, gloves, and

the color wheel, or directly across from each other. Yellow and purple,

throw blanket she snatched off her bed as we walked out the

red and green, and orange and blue. Colors that are completely

door with squinty eyes only 20 minutes prior. When we made it

opposite can somehow complement each other. They can make

through the trail, the sky began to change from royal grey to a

each other appear brighter, stand out, mix to create neutral hues,

blue that was being saturated by the sun. It was beautiful.

and be blended for shadows.

Complementary Colors

By Samantha Slezak, Continued I wonder what it would be like if we choose to look at

There is no shadow creating depth in the relationship, it is also just

other people like complementary colors. Not like they are blue,

surface level. They are hellos when you walk through the door and

orange, green and red people. But, they are people that are

goodbyes as you exit. They aren’t intentional, meaningful or purpose

different from me, the complete opposite from me, like different

filled. They are definitely not state changing. For us to change the state

things than me and sing different songs than me, yet we all

of our relationships, we have to mix them. Not 10 percent orange and 90

complement each other. And, as we are all made in the image of

percent blue, not 70-30, and not even 60-40, it has to be 50 percent of

God, by Him, the true artist, we complement Him. Just as there

each color. The whole purpose of mixing two colors is to enhance the

are intentions behind each color on the color wheel, how they lie,

mood of a piece of art and the same goes for us today. To enhance our

what they do when you sit them next to one another, and how

moods, whether positive or negative, create meaning and depth, and

they complement, so are there exact intentions created by our

dig below the surface we have to reach those that complement us.

Father that lie in every person on this earth, adjacent or opposite

These colors sit opposite one another for a reason. They are the farthest

of you. Made to complement a bigger purpose, a big God and

in distances, yet the most impacting. For us to create these relationships

His redeeming power. When we focus on this idea of

we have to reach those that are farthest away.

complementing each other and not just sitting opposite from others we get to see this beautiful piece of art called the world

As the sun began to rise, just before hitting the horizon, just where the

painted out, right in front of us, just as the Lord intended.

water met with the sky, orange began to glow as it announced that the sun was almost ready. The orange complementing the blue in the most

Something that amazes me about complementary colors

amazing way I’ve ever seen colors used. Probably because God was the

is the power they have to change the state of each other. Bear

artist who painted this picture, and knows the true intention behind

with me. If you were to mix two complements evenly, orange

every color and how they work best with one another, as He was the

and blue, they create a neutral grey, used for shadowing in

creator of them all. He is an intentional God and filled with so much

painting, creating depth. But when colors just sit opposite from

purpose.

one another, they are surface level.

Visual Art

Coexist

It’s Quiet in the Sky

L-Train Chicago

Laura Little

Joy Shaver

Steven Zimbrich

Cassette Recorder

By Jeremy Gamble Why choose the hallway to record your voice?

There were shadows in the hallway,

Feel the creaking wood under your feet,

The legs of others maybe, me at knee level.

Soft in certain spots and you know the tricks

It was bedtime.

To make the best squeaks.

Feel the cotton and elastic of a pajama top against my wrists.

The quiet one might know these things From walking around the house by himself

The sounds and sensations on the fingers of depressing

Holding a mirror’s face up towards the ceiling

buttons and plastic clicks are always interesting.

Wondering how it is to be away, how it must be to

Pressing both buttons at the same time to record has

walk up there.

a specific excitement.

The hiss coming from the silver speaker perforated

I know the home upside down,

with little holes

Cannot recall the color of the walls

Time to speak.

Yellow maybe, But the ceiling was white.

I do not know what was said, what I said Only the shock of my own voice played back to me

The smell of acetate tape and electronics,

Is that how I really sound?

Black plastic with painted metal accent.

How many times have I asked that question since?

The smell of aluminum and batteries.

Rectangle box and rolling mechanism in small hands.

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